The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave eBook

At about ten o’clock in the morning I went on
board of the boat, and found her there in company
with fifty or sixty other slaves. She was chained
to another woman. On seeing me, she immediately
dropped her head upon her heaving bosom. She
moved not, neither did she weep. Her emotions
were too deep for tears. I approached, threw my
arms around her neck, kissed her, and fell upon my
knees, begging her forgiveness, for I thought myself
to blame for her sad condition; for if I had not persuaded
her to accompany me, she would not then have been in
chains.

She finally raised her head, looked me in the face,
(and such a look none but an angel can give!) and
said, “My dear son, you are not to blame
for my being here. You have done nothing more
nor less than your duty. Do not, I pray you,
weep for me. I cannot last long upon a cotton
plantation. I feel that my heavenly master will
soon call me home, and then I shall be out of the
hands of the slave-holders!”

I could bear no more—­my heart struggled
to free itself from the human form. In a moment
she saw Mr. Mansfield coming toward that part of the
boat, and she whispered into my ear, “My child,
we must soon part to meet no more this side of the
grave. You have ever said that you would not
die a slave; that you would be a freeman. Now
try to get your liberty! You will soon have no
one to look after but yourself!” and just
as she whispered the last sentence into my ear, Mansfield
came up to me, and with an oath, said, “Leave
here this instant; you have been the means of my losing
one hundred dollars to get this wench back,”—­at
the same time kicking me with a heavy pair of boots.
As I left her, she gave one shriek, saying, “God
be with you!” It was the last time that I saw
her, and the last word I heard her utter.

I walked on shore. The bell was tolling.
The boat was about to start. I stood with a heavy
heart, waiting to see her leave the wharf. As
I thought of my mother, I could but feel that I had
lost

“—­the glory of my life,
My blessing and my pride! I half forgot
the name of slave, When she was by my side.”

CHAPTER XI.

The love of liberty that had been burning in my bosom,
had well nigh gone out. I felt as though I was
ready to die. The boat moved gently from the
wharf, and while she glided down the river, I realized
that my mother was indeed

“Gone,—­gone,—­sold
and gone,
To the rice swamp dank and
lone!”

After the boat was out of sight, I returned home;
but my thoughts were so absorbed in what I had witnessed,
that I knew not what I was about half of the time.
Night came, but it brought no sleep to my eyes.

In a few days, the boat upon which I was to work being
ready, I went on board to commence. This employment
suited me better than living in the city, and I remained
until the close of navigation; though it proved anything
but pleasant. The captain was a drunken, profligate,
hard-hearted creature, not knowing how to treat himself,
or any other person.